Yellow Butterfly, Red Roses
by StarseedOnEarth
Summary: Charlotte Sun,age 15 is found dead of an accident during a school trip. Everybody knew it to be an accident, but to one green girl, four words sentenced her to drown. Somewhat based on Yellow Butterfly by Meg and Dia. Pairings: Charvin/Marven
1. The Accident

Charlotte Sun; She was happy. She was blue. (In her mind,) She had many friends among the other Clamburg children, especially Vendetta and Marvin. Yes, Charlotte was a good girl. She had no reason to die.

But everything does not need a reason to happen. Nobody knew what happened that day in the forest, or why they found her tangled in the wild roses. But one thing was for sure: Charlotte Sun was gone and never coming back.

_ April 1st, 2011..._

"Oh boy! Vendetta, we're going on a field trip to the woods today! I hope we get to see some squirrels! Oh, or foxes, I LIKE foxes!" The fifteen year old Charlotte screeched happily. While she had become more aware of her surroundings and more able to dodge rocks smashing into her.

Vendetta sneered, "I hope you get EATEN by one of those foxes! The only reason I allow this trip is because the classroom bores me! And I prefer bringing my own clams, beef jerky and grape punch from home instead of eating the slop from our cafeteria!"

Charlotte stuck out her tongue and raised her eyebrow teasingly. "Oh, excuse ME princess! I had no idea you were in such a bad mood!" Over the years, her ignorant unawareness of Vendetta's insults had been replaced with the belief that it was all banter, playful teasing.

Vendetta sneered, saying not a word out loud, instead mumbling under her breath, "_I hope you die..."_

Charlotte's eyes widened and her lip trembled, as she tried not to cry. The teenage girl pretended that she didn't hear her. Char pretended that her friend's cruel words hadn't hurt her. But they did, and Vendetta giggled with the pleasure of having stung Charlotte.

Later on that day, after her comment had been forgotten, Vendetta watched the blue girl wander off into the semi-wet undergrowth of Clamburg National Forest. A good rain the night before had made things quite slippery, but still enjoyable with the spring weather in full force. She felt an unwelcome pang of guilt for what she had said, but a giggle from the insipid girl had sent it away like the now-increasing wind. She never knew that it would be the last time she saw her alive...

Later on, Mr. Milk called everyone for lunch. "I-I hope you all brought your lunches...heh heh. A-And if it's okay with you, Vendetta, I thought we might l-leave soon. The weather looks bad."

Vendetta noshed on her beef jerky, swallowed and declared, "We will stay until school is over!"

Mr. Milk jumped, cowering. It was no wonder he was still their teacher, even in 9th grade, for all of the others had either run away or gone insane. "O-Of course Vendetta! Hey...where's Charlotte?"

Everyone looked around, mumbling in question. Mr. Milk looked around. "Class, help me look for her! She couldn't have gone far, just look for shiny things or running water. She likes both of those." He was referring to the time she got "lost" in the History Museum, having accidentally fallen in the fountain staring at the shiny coins.

Vendetta mused to herself and Grudge as she wandered around the forest, somewhat searching for her nemesis and somewhat just wandering, "I wonder where the little brat has gone..."

Suddenly, something caught her eye; a flash of blue in a sea of red. Down by the bottom of a wading creek, in the mud of a bed of Spring Roses, Charlotte Sun was face down, scraped up to the point of bleeding, and completely lifeless with her face in the water. Vendetta shrieked inhumanly. "CHARLOTTE!"

She fell to the ground, whimpering, thinking silently, _I asked for this...With four words...I killed Charlotte!_


	2. The Funeral and Filler Chapter

The other teens and Mr. Milk followed the sound of Vendetta's mournful shrieks to the awful scene. "My...God..." Mr. Milk dropped to his knees. "I-Is she?..."

Marvin wept like a baby into Marion's comforting grip, her own body shaking like a leaf. Malachi attempted to help Mr. Milk remove her body from the tangled bushes, but Vendetta charged at them both. "Do not! Touch her! DON'T TOUCH HER!" She screamed in an unholy way, only subdued by Grudge's strong, furry arms. "You can't touch her! Get away!"

Mort had used his cell phone to call the paramedics, who were now on their way in full force. Vendetta had twisted her way out of Grudge's hug and was knelt by the body, face twisted into sad fury. "Charlotte, you idiot! How could you? How DARE you kill yourself? You KNOW that I did not mean what I said, yet you go kill yourself to prove something! I hate you!" The green girl's small heart had snapped in two, leaving her emptier than she had ever felt. And as always, what she could fill with nothing else, she would fill with abject hatred. Her best nemesis was gone. Nobody would ever know the depths of the guilt Vendetta VonKrumm would feel for her death. Indeed, nobody was laughing on April Fool's Day this year, nor would they for years to come.

_April 4th, 2011;_

It was the day of Charlotte's funeral. Her tragic accident had been plastered all over the newspapers, with headlines like "**Local Girl Drowns In Tragic Accident. Students Feel Sorrow." "Clamburg City Council Pays For Headstone Of Drowned Girl." "Charlotte Sun Dies In Awful Accident."**

The coroners who had examined the scene had declared that the poor teenager had slipped on the muddy ravine, caught her feet on the roses and, with her head and arms in the frigid creek, unable to free her feet, she had perished there. Charlene, her grandmother, was distraught to the point of not getting out of bed for days. But in the memory of her maternal grandchild's love for all things great and small, she got herself up and baked cookies for everyone at the funeral. Carol and Cameron Sun even came down from the moon to pay their respects for their beloved only child. All of the kids of Room Four were there to see the girl lay to rest under a pink marble angel. _She would have liked that, _Marvin thought miserably. _Charlotte loved pink. My God, she's so tiny..._

Her white coffin with yellow lace was, indeed, very petite. During grade school, her puffy curls had partially hidden her height difference from the rest of the children, but as they all hit their spurts of height, she had stayed the size of a child. He had often affectionately called her 'Thumbelina', but now the joke was nowhere near funny. Marvin continued to stare, a bitter knot welling in his throat. _How's she going to fit in there? She needs more room- _He had begun to think the words 'to breathe', but stopped himself with a mental slap.

The teal colored boy in the bow tie scanned the scene; Mr. Milk, Marion, Malachi, Mort, Charlene, Mrs. Minty and her cousin Cherise were all there. The only people missing where Grudge and Vendetta. _Cold, _thought Marvin angrily. _Even for the Ice Queen. Didn't she have the guts to come? It's the only DECENT thing to do, but knowing her..._The teenaged boy seethed with rage. He had feared, respected and even admired Vendetta before. All range of emotions had been directed at her. But this was the first time Marvin Greer could ever fully say that he hated her.

The truth of it was, Vendetta had been at home crying, too ashamed to show her face.


	3. Her Memory, or Lackthereof

_September 13th, 2011;_

It had been five months since poor Char's death, and Clamburg had all but gone to Hell.

Vendetta was worse than ever before. When Charlotte was around, she had her as a target to pick on, but now the full force of the misguided green adolescent's pain, guilt and rage was forced on everybody else. The rules were far more strict as well: There was absolutely NO singing, skipping, playing pretend, cutting paper, petting puppies, sliding on slides, baking cookies or smiling while being hit. Nothing was allowed in Vendetta's kingdom that reminded her of her old frenemy. Nothing could be allowed to bring back the still-fresh pain of losing the person she had spent countless time and energy to destroy to suicide. She had kept her fears of being Charlotte's killer bottled up tight.

Charlene, her loving grandmother, had moved far away from Clamburg, feeling only unhappiness from a place that she wasn't even allowed to remember her only grandchild. Afterward the accident, all traces of the cheerful blue teen had been decimated by fiends or the Queen Of Mean herself. Nobody was even allowed to speak the name _Charlotte._ If you were caught talking about her or the accident, a fiend would deliver a swift and harsh punishment while Vendetta yelled mercilessly. Charlene couldn't live with it, not being able to keep the last picture she had of her cherished relative, a locket with her fourth grade picture in it that she kept with her at all times. The broken-hearted, elderly woman moved back to Vermont with her son and daughter in law where she could spend as much time as she wanted in the child's room as she liked and fondly remember the brief life of the person who had most touched her heart.

Marvin, you think, would have been better off, him being so sensible and level headed. But he had never been allowed to come to terms with her death, nor had he been able to forgive Vendetta for

not showing up to the wake. He had turned sixteen and was a far cry from the shy boy he had been in elementary school, especially when it came to his bravery. He had started an all-out psychological war against the gloomy green female whom he had once feared and respected. The two were now blood enemies, although they shared a secret unbeknownst to even them.

You see, a week after the accident, Vendetta started to sluff off school every Monday and go to the woods where Charlotte had perished and sit at the bank of the creek with a rotted pile of daisies, marigolds, and whatever weeds were growing in the ruins of Charlene's prized garden. She figured it would be respectful to bring her what was once hers. Grudge went with her most of the time, making sure that Vendetta herself didn't fall in. He didn't want to say it, (or couldn't, it's hard to tell) but he was worried for her; she had always been withdrawn before, but it seemed as if now she only opened her mouth to yell at him or to whisper angry messages to the spirit of Charlotte, scolding her for dying. Grudge was scared that Vendetta had gone crazy.

Marvin had a similar secret to share as well; he went there twice a week, Mondays after school, when Vendetta had left and Fridays before, and clear away the decayed flowers, mumbling of some cad who "had no respect for a place where an angel had taken her last breath", as he had written on his Livejournal Account one day when he felt poetic. The truth was, he had loved Charlotte, more than he could say. Ever since the day she had helped him middle manage, he had felt an unrequited flame for the cheerful young lady, mainly due to the fact that she was too innocent to understand until recently. That day, that awful day, he had planned to take her down by those exact roses, profess his love and kiss her the way he had always wanted to. But instead, those roses were the last things she had ever seen, and though he wanted to hate them, to pick them all and tear out their petals, Marvin couldn't bring himself to. Charlotte wouldn't have liked that, and her memory was all that mattered. She wouldn't have wanted him to hurt the flowers, so he took the best care of them that he could and prayed there. Sometimes, he swore, he could still hear her tinkling laughter in the air. Inside, it killed him.


End file.
